A Ride

 A ride of the scariest sort. I said to myself , "sometimes these strongest moments become your weakest". You know it's true.  I got so flipped up side right and inverted , outverted and spun. I hadn't a clue what it meant in the end. The sky was not even a floor , but the pillow. And what was a pillow afterall? I lost all reason and understanding. I became lost in the multiplicity, in the endless possibility. 

I shook hands with my inner voice and said "thank you very much" . Then I turned on my heel and jumped on a shabby subway train painted gold. She stood there, screaming. But no sound would come forth. I did finally come home. I spotted her dirty and torn up on a bench. Her eyes puffy from crying. I could barely recognize her. First I demanded, screamed, choked her. She didn't make a sound, didn't look me in the eye. I proceeded to pick her up, and carry her from the station.

The road outside was empty. We were in a desert and the sky told us it was night. She slumped against me , hardly present. I realized then she was dying. We needed to leave, she needed replenishment, she needed to heal. Abuse. And I was the abuser. The demon gone healing the angel for the demon , in its torment, needed the angel. And in her death would ultimately be the death of evil. For one is nothing without the other. Her breath was sweet even bleeding onto the road. A train came, it had no railroad, no destination. But when it stopped in front of us, she nodded ever so slightly. I nearly missed it.

We sat on a cold seat, black windows lining us. There was no driver. But the inside was honest, and that was enough. I sang to her, softly. It was empty but the frequency held life , and in that she could close her  eyes without fear.

The nighttime lasted four and a half lives. I was a middle-aged woman in the fifth life when the sun finally came. The windows of the train lightened their tint every so slightly, her breath drew steadier. Her head on my shoulder , her hair flat from my hand gently petting it. Her eyes flew open, and she sat upright. The train came to an abrupt stop and we stepped out into the blinding sun. We were in another desert. But this time there was the faint smell of water. We felt it. She knelt her head as the train sped off and took off her shirt. Her back began to bend, small trails of blood ran down it. Then came her wings , with a span of many men. She turned to me, kissed my forehead, then left. I so stiffly stood  , so silently thought, as just a small bit of water ran down my cheeks. And then the voice came from behind, as it always did. I turned to face him, in his absurd beauty that was so very seductive. He usually smiled like this.

I fidgeted. She would be back soon , I knew she had meant for me to stay put. But always, in her absence, he came. He smelled so sweet, his hair was so perfectly placed. He was tall, his eyes smoldered. I began to laugh. Somewhere a melody carried on the breeze. He held out his hand "one dance?"

I would shift here, uncomfortably , as I always did. Low down I would burn. Yet always I stood without response. I looked both ways, the road was made of desert, a few trees lined the sides. There was an old building. There were things I hadn't noticed. The shadows cast by the tangle of branches held predators, slaves. They watched. Sometimes they made small noises, when I listened very hard I noticed. He shushed them. His eyes were beyond kindness or hatred. They were fascination.

Then , from the right, came another. He was plain. He startled me, he came at me. He didn't smile, his eyes swam. I couldn't understand him as he began to circle. He maintained eye contact, circling and circling, making me so dizzy. I looked away, rubbing at my temples, sweat ran down my back. The sun was hot. Where had He gone ? Through this second, circling me, I could not find him. This second spoke things, claimed things. He was aggressive but in his pocket was a potion. Where had my She gone ? The train? What was I doing in this desert? What lifetime had we come to?

I soaked my clothes until I had no moisture to sweat. Still he circled me, though no longer did I care, no longer did I notice. I was dying. My skin caught fire, and I watched myself turn to ashes. I saw the ashes turn to dust. Saw the wind carry the dust, saw the dust spin and meet with other dust. I saw it without ego or judgement or pain. But as I went to fly on, there was a great divide. I felt the seat beneath me, cold and hard. The windows dark , the absence of the driver. I was on that train again, I was in the sixth lifetime. My skin was fresh , I was younger, but I carried the lives on a chain about my neck.

The desert that smelled of the ocean appeared outside. The angel was not visible, but she was not gone. She was back inside. Back above, beneath, in front, and then from behind came His voice. He smiled as he always did. He held out his hand "one dance? " I stood. I felt the burn in the lowest point. I smelled him. Then from my right came the other, the plain one. But I did not look away from Him. He smiled wider, drew his fangs to the plain one and colored the sand with his blood. They whispered in the shadows, he silenced them. A piece of his hair had gone stray, just a small piece. There it was. No one fooled. He held out his hand once again.

"Just one" he purred.

My fingers twitched. She had intended for me to wait there, I knew.